


Tender

by dreamoverdrive



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamoverdrive/pseuds/dreamoverdrive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tahno tears his ACL at the end of cross country season and is left without the force that drove his life. He finds himself working with a girl from the rivaling team in physical therapy. Chaos follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is designed to be a multi-chapter fic but i'm not promising anything on how often it will be updated.
> 
> I am aware that there is already a cross country AU written by therentyoupay and I have made an effort to make this fic very different to avoid any plagiarism. Cross country season will be finishing when this plot starts so that will be one large difference in itself. If you haven't read therentyoupay's Personal Record, I highly recommend it because it is an absolutely incredible read. If you're still worried, she has given me permission to post this fic.

Blood sang under his skin and created a frenetic rhythm that propelled him forward. His footfalls raised clouds of dust that swirled around the skin of his calves, clinging to the layer of sweat. Every impact from his strides rose up from his legs to his skull and even though it felt like he was dying, he knew with every fiber of his being that he was  _flying_.

The burn of his lungs under his chest, the dull throb with every timed extension of his legs, and the whirlwind of activity at the back of his mind calculating pace and competition—it balanced in a consuming state of being. The dusty air in his throat and the sharp cry of triumph held between his tongue and the roof of his mouth— _i_ _t belonged to him._

Here, Tahno was king. He could hear the persistent scuff of racing flats, labored breathing, and mumbled mantras from the runners behind. There was a seething frustration directed towards him, the leader of the pack. Tahno's primal smirk unfurled, unaffected by the slow drip of sweat between his lips that left behind the acrid taste of salt and adrenaline. He wore the scream in his limbs like a scorching crown.

_Catch me if you can._

The press of uphill under the balls of his feet signified pain and if he had the breath to laugh he would have crowed a challenge.  _Is that all you have? I want to see you try and break me. I want to see you fail._

But he didn't because Tahno didn't get here by being foolish at important moments. Whatever anyone said about him, he knew racing strategy better than his own name. At least, in moments like these he did.

When he was caught up in the physical rush and chaotic balance of his mind during races, his name wasn't important unless people were screaming it. He made his last curve with elbows tucked, arms pumping, and body leaning at the perfect angle--  **there it was.**

The world flooded from the disjointed focus into detail. The flickering plastic streamers in the air, the gradual slope of dust he was about to set churning, the roiling mass of colored bibs and the people that began to scream at the sight of him,  _it called him_.

The last spurt of adrenaline kicked in to chase away the bite of pain and his knees pumped higher. His feet were hardly touching the earth and he thought to himself:  _Let's see what you've got. Let's see if you deserve this._

He'd just begun to make out the faces when it all went to hell.

Something had disrupted his stride. The cadence of body straining over trail had been all that existed and now he was lost in panicked confusion at this in-between state. He reeled because  _this wasn't part of the plan. He wasn't in control. What is this, whatisthis—_

The complaints his body had been hissing to him under the press of his will came up in a wave of vengeance. And then there was an anchor, pulling him back down—

_It began as a burn in the back of his knee like the a concentrated flame. He was moving closer and closer to the ground below but the pain was building along the taut line of muscle that was bearing the strain of his descent. The line pressed up against the over-stretched flesh with the intent to release and he felt his mouth open in a howl—_

_Fibers began to fray and the logic the back of his mind was screaming along_

_**pleasestoppleasestoppleasepleasestoppleasenopleaseno** _

* * *

A final rip that tore more than just his knee, burning darkness, and a mouth of dirt pressing cuts into his gums, yelling but the wrong kind  _because why would they yell with their king in the mud?_

* * *

Tahno woke to the stench of chemical against his nose and the scratch of synthetic fabric beneath his cheek. Unnatural white light shone above him when he cracked open his eyes. When he shifted with unresponsive muscles he found there was a hot metal brace heated by his skin clamped over his right leg. There was a dull haze that had crept through his mind that made it strenuous to reach for memory and reason.

**The meet.**

He jolted upright and his skin pinched against the blunt edges of the metal. He looked side to side in the room at the lone IV-  _thank god it wasn't hooked up to him or he really would have gone ballistic_ \- and the blocky tv set up on a plastic stand. Where was he? The last memory of branding pain washed over him and a dread so thick rose in his throat that he wanted to retch it up.

The door swung open and a man with a craggy wrinkled face and a crisp white coat walked in. The sound of footsteps echoed strangely in Tahno's ears. Everything felt strange: this place, these people, and above all his own body. A nurse followed behind, the obnoxious shade of her purple scrubs made all the worse by the contrast of the white room.

The man drew up beside Tahno's cot and stood carefully still, as though trying not to startle him. Tahno held back a sneer, denying the venomous part of him that was far too prideful and far too scared to be of any help in this situation. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared but that didn't mean he was going to let on just how hard his pulse was hammering in his temples.

"Hello, young man." The voice was deep and placating. Tahno just stared up. There was too much crazy in him to respond to something as neutral as greeting; especially a greeting like that.

"You've had a rough time of it."

Tahno let out a sharp burst of laughter that sounded more like a bark of fury. He leaned his head back against the thinly padded pillow and stared at the ceiling.

"How long till I'm running?"

He'd asked a question but it came out like a statement with the old weight of his certainty. Because it couldn't be  _that_  bad. Nothing could be bad enough to keep him away from running. Furthermore, nothing  _that_  bad ever happened to someone like Tahno. If there ever had been someone like Tahno.

The doctor said nothing and Tahno flicked his blurry gaze back to him. Now a hint of hysteria colored his voice as the pitying eyes framed by long routs of leathery wrinkles just stared. "How long till I'm running?"

"We think you've torn your anterior cruciate ligament and strained your posterior cruciate ligament. It's hard to say when you'll have full faculty of your—"

" _How long till I'm running?"_

The doctor tried to smile but it just looked like a grimace of coffee yellowed teeth and suddenly Tahno felt about four inches tall and fragile enough to be crushed. A steady hand clapped him on the shoulder and he flinched away. "Get some rest, son."

The door shutting with a click barely registered in Tahno's mind as he stared at the blank wall, consciousness creeping back to leave him searching for answers.


	2. The Aftermath

"Tahno. Look at us."

The strained voice was too familiar in the new environment. Tahno was trying not to think about anything that had existed outside of the ugly little white room, at least not yet. He couldn't handle remembering with exactly what he had lost just yet.

So he stared at the white wall till his vision was lined with a bright glow that only made his headache worse and pretended they weren't there.

"Tahno." There was a pause heavy with the attempts of the two other people in the room to come up with something to say. They probably weren't even quite sure themselves what they were trying to say. That they were sorry?  _Holy hell, Tahno we're so fucking sorry._ That they wanted to help?  _We want to get you out of this white hell hole._ That they were scared?  _Stop staring like that and start acting like a dick again we miss you._

In the end it all sounded like too much and too little to voice so the group of three sat in silence, waiting for something to change. But nothing did.

The clock on the wall whirred at the hour mark and Ming stretched out his legs. Tahno felt jealousy at his ability to move freely that made him want to gag with self-loathing because  _these were his teammates and how could he feel that? You're sick Tahno, but not sick enough to wish they were here with you._

A cell phone going off filled the silence. It was Shaozu's and he swore and slid out of the room to take it. Ming just stared at Tahno, waiting for a flicker or irritation or condescension.

Nothing.

"Tahno, you need to get it together. Yeah, it sucks but you need-"

Tahno glared, angry words rising quicker than common sense. "Yeah it does suck doesn't it," he hissed. The silence had been building to this because damn it, he wasn't used to not being able to mold silences and words to his benefit. "And don't you  _dare_ tell me what I need."

After the initial surprise, Ming's eyes narrowed.

"Fine. I don't know what else you want me to say because hell if I know what I should be doing."

He paused and pushed himself to his feet, looking down at Tahno. Tahno glared at the height change, hating the fact that he couldn't stand up to match him. Wasn't this what their team was all about? Matching each other? Matching jokes, matching times on the track, matching the number of hook ups that month. What the hell were they supposed to do with him now?

It had been more than his nature—it was his very habitat. The admiring glances in the hallways at school, the whispers of the incoming freshmen who hadn't seen the  _legendary Tahno_ , the simpering pressure of feminine hands on his biceps, the brush of glossy lips near his ears to whisper something mindless but still welcome because the sound meant he was _liked_. More than anything, it was the parting of the other runners when it was time to line up for starting shot that split the tension before the start of what made him feel alive.

His dependency had been apparent then but he'd never thought of it as a problem.

_If Tahno can't run, what is Tahno?_

Shaozu stuck his head back in through the door, eyes flicking back and forth between his teammates. "We gotta go, Ming."

They both looked expectantly at Tahno but his gaze had drifted back to the wall where he could bury the unnatural rise of shame.

They stood like that for a moment before Ming sighed and moved over to the door. "We're here for you, Tahno."

Something thick rose in his throat before he swallowed it back down. He watched the door shut behind them.

* * *

Tahno pressed his head against the cold car window and tried not to re-live the wheelchair ride down from the hospital. He'd only spent one night there. He could have gone home that day but he must have looked unstable because the doctor told him to wait 24 hours just in case.

_In case of what?_

His fingers had dug into the leather wheelchair grips on the armrests (the snide part of him that was still alive and kicking made several comments about how he was sitting in something dead  _how appropriate_ ) while the nurse wheeled him through long corridors. He had looked around at the repeated carts, empty gurneys, and uninterested eyes. Time stretched on and on  _and on_.

The sunlight that hit him when the sliding doors opened almost made him hiss. (Holy fuck, it hadn't even been a day.) Memories from months of running under sunlight were quickly stifled before they could come back up to remind him of where he had been just one day earlier. The drip of sweat down his neck, the dull burn of moving muscles, and the cry of victory—

Tahno swore and slammed his head against the car window, holding it there. He heard his father shift in the front seat to look back at him but there was no comment.

Tahno focused on unclenching his muscles and let his eyes drift to the large metal thing clamped around his leg. The long sturdy brace kept his knee in complete immobility. It almost felt like there was no knee there at all. He couldn't feel blood pumping there and he wasn't sure if the leg would even respond if he tried moving it. All he could feel was the top layer of skin. It was as though a sleeve of his flesh was encasing nothing.

"We'll be there soon."

His father's voice made Tahno want to crawl back up to his hospital room. At least there he had been alone. No one to look at the brace eating his leg, no one to look at the beginnings of circles under his eyes, no one to look at failure.

The car eased to a stop and Tahno looked up. A large building rose above the car. Columns of fitted rocks marked the glass door entry way. On the top, in blue writing was White Lotus Physical Therapy.

Tahno just stared till his door swung open with a click to reveal the wheelchair waiting for him. He closed his eyes and he heard the impatient scuff of his father's business shoes on the black top.

"Tahno. Let's go."

The words were spoken with certainty at the follow through of orders and once upon a time Tahno might have looked back with the same certainty, albeit a little more vicious than cold, and replied  _no._

But once upon a time wasn't now so Tahno opened his eyes. He swung his legs to the side and allowed himself to be lifted up and over into the saggy seat. He closed his eyes again to the comforting darkness so that he wouldn't have first reactions to remember when his dad started wheeling him inside.

The  _swip_ of the doors opening and the low mutterings of a lobby room greeted his ears. Perhaps if he kept his eyes shut long enough he could forget that other people were there. He used to love the weight of eyes on him and he savored the taste of others' curiosity. The adrenaline of having attention in the palm of his hand was like a high. In the space of twenty-four hours it had become suffocating.

His father's muted conversation with the secretary lasted a few moments and all that Tahno caught of it was the hushed  _is he ok?_ And his father's reply in a tone that clearly meant there would be no more discussion  _he's fine._ There was an awkward silence before he was being wheeled away again.

After a few minutes there was a halt and Tahno sensed shifting in the air in front of him. He resisted the urge to creak an eye open, already committed to having nothing to visualize because hell if he was having another nightmare of white coats and carefully disconnected faces that couldn't be bothered to care because he was  _just another_ patient.

"This must be Tahno!"

The voice was middle aged and deep. He could hear the false enthusiasm in the words as well as the slight confusion as to why the patient had his eyes shut and why he was gripping the arms of the wheelchair like a vice.

"Yes." His father's tone was measured with a professional quality. As if Tahno were something he was selling. "He's been having some difficulty… adapting."

"That's just fine. We'll be taking good care of him here. He'll be up and going in no time." The mindless promise made Tahno want to leap up and screech liar. His dad clasped a hand on his shoulder and Tahno twitched in surprise. "Tahno, do you want me to come with you?"

His father's voice had grown gentler and the pressure of the hand unleashed a stream of memories. A scuffed wooden table with paper plates, laughter around cheap mouthfuls of boiled or microwaved dinner, the low buzz of childhood tv shows in the background. Those were times before business calls, business suits, and the business face.

"Could you wait for me, Dad?"

He sensed his father's surprise and then the hand squeezed before letting go. "Of course, Tahno."

Footsteps clacked away. Tahno sensed the other man move behind the wheelchair and grip the handles to propel them forward.

"My name is Tenzin and I'll be your physical therapist."

"Not Doctor Tenzin?"

"Just Tenzin. Would you mind telling me why your eyes are closed?"

"Yes."

"Alright. That's fine. I'll do my best to talk you through anything we want you to do."

Tahno felt childish but childish was better than embarrassed. A door clicked open and he was wheeled in. "Alright, Tahno, Jinora and I are going to help you on the examining bed."

"Jinora?"

"I'm right here." Her voice was young. What was a kid doing in a physical therapy center? He'd opened his mouth to ask when strong hands and small ones wrapped around his arms to brace under his elbows.

"Alright, you're going to try and stand with all your weight on your left leg. Don't put anything on your right. We've moved the table lower so you'll be able to turn around and sit on it."

Tahno nodded, making sure his face was schooled into apathetic dignity.

He pushed himself up and  _damn how could this have happened so fast._  He felt unbalanced without aids to keep him standing. His right leg jerked and buckled. He was struck with horror and he was about to try again,  _because it was his fucking leg why wasn't it working_ , when he was firmly steered and pushed down on the hard padding of the examining table.

"Tahno, you must wait till you start putting weight back on that leg. If it is your ACL as your doctor believed, it will be unstable. When it's time for you to go, we'll see how much it can handle."

Tahno's breathing was shallow and he hardly heard the reprimanding words, unable to believe how quickly his leg had folded under him. Tahno didn't trust much but he'd always trusted in the readiness of his own body.

"Now we're going to perform the Lachman test. It's going to tell me if it really is an ACL tear that we're looking at. It's painless and it only involves me going through one simple motion with your knee."

The metal around his knee loosened abruptly before being lifted away with a sharp click. He felt naked without it. The hot skin cooled quickly and Tahno felt an immeasurable rush of relief that he had kept his eyes closed. He hadn't looked at his leg directly since the last minute stretches before yesterday's race _._ Of course, it couldn't have changed much.

In his nightmare the skin had been mottled with dark splotches of red and purple that spread like drops of dye in water. Ridges of tissue rose up into shiny, puckered scars and the skin had felt like it was stretched to the point of tearing over bone. After awhile the leg morphed to the soft, folded black of the withered flowers from bouquets he received after races. It was deflated and shriveled and overall, unbelievably  _dead_.

He knew it was silly everything wrong with his leg was wrong under the surface ( _like you_ whispered the spiteful voice in his head) but Tahno was an appearance-oriented person. If his leg was ruined, it didn't just feel ruined. It looked ruined.

"Alright. You're going to lay back nice and easy now." Tahno let himself be pressed down backwards on the table. Cool, dry hands closed around his knee and lifted his leg up gently but left his ankle resting on solid surface. "Now I'm just going to hold your knee at a ninety degree light bend and feel around your tibia to see if it's being held by your ACL."

The hand settled right beneath where knee moved down to calf and began to gently push the knee up to the ceiling in small repeated movements. Tahno was struck by an overwhelming sense of instability in his knee. The joint seemed to slide without order as if the puppet strings holding it together had been cut. He forced his breathing under control.

"Now we're going to do a pivot test which is very similar. You're doing great."

Tahno repressed a sneer that he knew stemmed from the fear and suspense growing in his head. He didn't want reassurance but at the same time he needed it.

His entire leg was lifted off the table. The hands closed around his calf and pressed his knee slightly back towards his torso. The process was repeated several times before his knee was stopped and held in the lightly flexed position. Fingers felt around the lower base of his knee.

"Look at his tibia," Tenzin murmured. Fingers slid over the protruding bone and Tahno shivered. His leg was set down and Tenzin let out a short breath.

"Are you ready to hear your diagnosis?"

Tahno stiffened.  _No._ "Already? Don't I need an MRI?"

"We'll get you an MRI soon but this physical examination was a very clear indicator."

Tahno's pulse spiked. Was he ready? Something was expanding in his chest and his rib cage felt like stretched bands of metal. "Yes. I'm ready."

Tenzin's voice began to rapidly fill the silence, speaking in a tone meant to engage him. "The ACL is one of the four main ligaments in your knee. The ligaments connect bone to bone to give joints stability. The ACL and the PCL cross each other inside the knee joint to connect the femur and the tibia. Luckily, your PCL seems to be fine. The ACL's primary function is to keep the tibia from slipping forward. For example, when you're running down hill or slowing from a run to a stop—"

"What's wrong with mine," Tahno bit out, fingers clenching in the crackling paper he was lying on.

A pause and then, "You've torn it. We have several options but as I assume that you want to return to competitive sports, surgery would be the best to avoid future complications. I recommend having some pre-rehab physical therapy for about three weeks before going into the surgery. The better you're moving before the surgery, the sooner you'll be moving even better afterwards. The surgery itself will involve taking grafts from surrounding tendons to reconstruct—"

"Dad, stop it! He's freaking out!"

_The darkness behind his lids was smothering him with words that he saw rather than heard._ _**Torn. Surgery. Reconstruct.**  _ _His head was spinning but it was hard to tell because his eyes were still closed. He could feel the rotation around and around. If he could see the room he was in he was sure it would be a blur. He felt dizzy and his breath was coming too fast but he couldn't stop--_   _ **In. Out. In. Out. In Out. In Out.** _

"Hey there, Pretty Boy. C'mon. Open your eyes."

Tahno felt his eyes creaking open before he could stop them at the sound of the new but familiar voice—the voice he barely remembered from another time that felt lives away from where he was now.

The initial brightness faded and he fixed his gaze on inscrutable blue eyes. They regarded him nearly indifferently, judgment carefully concealed to reveal nothing. They just watched him, waiting for something he wasn't sure he could give.

She'd called him Pretty Boy. The old name that had been snapped venomously, hissed in an effort to make him feel ashamed. It had been used to try to convey her hatred for the extent of his vanity back to him so that he'd feel  _something_  close to shame. She'd just said it in such a neutral tone that he wondered if he'd misheard because those could not have been the same words. Here he was sat, hair plastered to his head with cold sweat, lips chapped and bitten, eyes filled with creeping red webs across the whites—

_And she was calling him Pretty Boy? As if he was the same person. As if nothing had changed._

He just stared, locked in between past Tahno that had only been gone for a little under twenty-four hours and present Tahno who was just starting to take root. He wasn't sure if his words should be biting or just as neutral so he just stared.

Tenzin coughed. "I suppose you two know each other."

Her eyes slid away from his and he was struck with relief and disappointment in equal amounts. "Yeah. I guess."

Tenzin nodded, seeming to accept the lack of explanation. Tahno looked at the man for the first time, matching the voice to the person. He had a long face with a strong chin covered in a neatly groomed dark beard. His head was bare and his eyes were pale grey like the calm of a storm. Tahno could see why so many people came to him. Just looking at the man was reassuring.

"Tahno, you're going to need to tell me if we're moving too quickly for you.'

"I'm fine," Tahno said in a brittle voice, instantly defensive at the implied need to coddle him.

Korra snorted. "Yeah that little fit you had just now was real fine."

Tahno glared. "Who let you in here?"

"Um, I work here?  _Uncle_ Tenzin told me we were going to be getting a runner in. I wanted to meet him." Her nose crinkled. "I'm not so sure anymore."

"Getting a runner in?" He pushed himself up into a sitting position and the paper under him crackled loudly. "What am I, your new pet gerbil?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Well I certainly wasn't expecting a rat."

"You're one to talk, Ferret," Tahno hissed.

"Alright then," Tenzin said loudly, clapping his hands together. "That's plenty of that." He said the words with an air of calm as if they had just been light heartedly squabbling over a pack of gum. Tahno shot her one last scathing look that she quickly returned.

"I'm going to go find Pema," she said, turning to leave.

"Wait outside for a moment, Korra. I need to speak with you."

She spun back around with a sharp flick of her brown ponytail, eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh, so this is my fault—"

"I didn't say anything about fault, Korra. "

"No, but you're going to drag me out there and give me that half hour patience lecture that—"

"You guys aren't being very professional." All eyes in the room turned to focus on Jinora, who had one hip pressed out and her arms crossed. She regarded them all with a disapproving stare.

Tahno suddenly felt very tired. He rested an elbow on his thigh to prop his head up and his eyes were drawn to his injured leg for the first time. He'd always been pale but on the brown exam table his leg looked far too white. He just stared. It had taken one moment to end up here and these people still hadn't told him when he'd be getting out.

"Jinora, why don't you ask Tahno if he'd like you to give the muscles around his knee a heat patch? They might be able to use a little fresh circulation. I'm going to talk with Korra for a moment outside. I'll be right back in to finish giving Tahno a rough sketch of his treatment plan. "

Tahno said nothing at his careful exclusion from the conversation. They were giving him a moment to cope and holy shit did he need it. Not that he'd let them know.

Tahno glanced up as the door clicked open to take one last look at the girl. Her eyes were fixed on him and he saw something foreign but increasingly familiar in her eyes.

Pity.

He scowled and the look was gone before he could even be sure that it had even been there. She scowled back and slid out of the room with all the grace of an athlete.

Tahno was left with the hollow sense of remembering challenges he used to be able to take.

  
  



	3. Bitterness

Tenzin stared down at her with the heavy look that meant he was either very frustrated, very disappointed, or both. "Korra—"

"Alright, I'm sorry. He looks pretty rough and I probably shouldn't have done that but I'm just used to—"

"I want you to be one of his personal trainers."

Her mouth dropped open and words died in her throat. There was silence as she tried to form of coherent sentence that didn't question Tenzin's sanity, blood alcohol concentration, or identity. She finally settled on an incredulous laugh. "I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you correctly. You want me to what?"

"I want you to be one of his personal trainers," Tenzin said slowly, his voice and eyes steady as always.

"Are you crazy? We spent about thirty seconds together and by the end of it we were calling each other rodent names!"

"Korra," he said in a rare display of impatience, "When that boy was wheeled in here he had his eyes closed."

Korra just blinked. "Is that supposed to mean something to me? I guess he's more eccentric than I thought-"

"He was scared."

Korra snorted. "Tenzin, I don't think you've met Tahno the Wolfbat. He doesn't do scared."

Tenzin looked away, back at the door. "Is that Tahno the Wolfbat in there, Korra?"

And wasn't that the question of the hour? She'd walked in, expecting some young, bright-eyed kid with some severe runner's knee or plantar fasciitis . She certainly hadn't expected the rival team's captain, entirely without hair gel and eyeliner, wheezing up a storm mid-fit with Tenzin and Jinora freaking out above him. She didn't really know what had possessed her to call him by his old nickname because deep down she knew that no, this was not the same guy she'd encountered before. To be honest, she wasn't sure who was sitting in that room. Neither was she sure if she liked him or not.

"Alright, suppose he has changed. Why do you want me to work with him?"

"Because you were familiar enough to calm him down."

Korra rolled her eyes. "Tenzin, I've met him like three times tops and each occasion was memorably unpleasant."

Tenzin shrugged. "So what? You were familiar. He's going to be going through a hard time, Korra. A large part of his identity is going to be taken away. Working with you will help remind him of who he was."

"A major jerk?" She crossed her arms. "This might be a good thing. Maybe he needed a little upset to get him headed in the right direction."

"A little—" Tenzin broke off and understanding washed over his features. "You weren't there when I told him."

Korra shifted. "Alright, let's not be cryptic."

Tenzin gave her a don't-push-your-luck look. "He's not in for a little upset, Korra."

"Again with the vague hinting—"

"He tore his ACL."

Korra stopped abruptly and she felt her breath hitch. ACL injuries were the taboo of every athlete. They were painful, required surgery, and left you out of commission for up to a year. A sense of disbelief made her shift uncomfortably. She couldn't imagine having her ability to run and compete taken away from her for that long. Who would she become for all that time? She flicked her gaze to the door.

"Are you certain?"

"Quite."

Korra leaned against the wall with a groan. "So you want me to hold his hand for the next year while he slowly regains his ego and unpleasant personality?"

"Yes, I do want you to work with him," Tenzin said in a measured tone. "But I won't make you."

Korra raised her eyebrows. "I'm being given a choice?"

"Of course you are. You've been raised to make your own decisions and I know forcing you into anything would only make problems for everyone involved."

Korra stared down at the floor, a mixture of pride and strange disappointment making her scowl. "How many times a week would I work with him?"

"We'll have to see after what he's up to after his surgery and what his insurance policy is like."

She took a deep breath and pushed off the wall to stand up straight. "And what about pre-rehab?"

"Well, I'd say four days at the very most?"

Korra glared off into space, wheels turning in her head. She'd be working with public enemy number one. The one guy hated by her entire team. During track season, even the sprinters partook in throwing dart sessions at his news article pictures that went up in the locker rooms. He was a jerk, a sleaze, and intolerable to the point of madness.

She looked back at Tenzin. "I'll do it."

"I'm not going back like this."

"Tahno, this isn't an optional kind of—"

"What, are you going to make me?"

His father's eyes narrowed at him, calculating and wondering where the quiet, complacent kid with the giant metal knee brace had gone. "I can certainly try," he said.

Tahno snorted, even if it was a bluff. There was no way he was going back to school like this to hobble around for the two weeks before his surgery. People would ask questions when they saw him shambling around like a zombie. Teachers would give him pity and maybe even pat him on the back when he left class. Not too hard though. They might knock him over. While Tahno loved attention, he despised pity.

"I'll do the work on independent study. I don't understand why I have to go back to the masses to get my coursework done—"

"Tahno," his father said sharply. "How many times have I told you to refer to your peers in a respectful manner?"

Tahno shrugged, but he knew how far to push it. His father drummed his fingers on the back of Tahno's desk chair and looked at Tahno's leg that lay outstretched on the bed. "I know this is a very traumatic time for you right now but your education is of utmost importance."

"Do you think that I would deliberately do something to sabotage myself?"

And that was the main selling point of his whole argument. No, Tahno wouldn't. He would never do something to jeopardize his own future, at least not intentionally. His father let out a long sigh and eyes drifted around the room. "I'll call the school today. Do you need any ice?"

Tahno shook his head. "No thank you," he was sure to say as his father turned and left the room. He was finding it somewhat easier to be polite to his dad when he found he needed reassurance he refused to ask for and help hauling himself up the stairs to his room.

When the door shut with a quiet click, Tahno rolled over on his side. It was a relief to be alone. A relief to be still and admit yes, he needed to create a little hollow for himself.

His knee felt stiff. It reminded him of the way his tendinitis that never seemed to go away acted up on the days after long runs during cross country season. But this was a different kind of stiffness because it crept through, slowly and sluggishly till his entire knee seemed to ache with it.

His cellphone beeped from his bedside table but he felt such aversion to the idea of outside communication that he picked it up and threw it to the ratty beanbag on the other side of the room. It might have been his coach, asking where the hell he had been. It might have been Shaozu or Ming telling him to get his head out of his ass and reply. For all he knew, it could have been last weekend's hook up calling to see if he was busy.

Tahno dragged a blanket up and over his legs. Yes, he was busy in fact; busy feeling very alone and very sorry for himself.

"Bolin, give me my cookie back."

"Mako, did you really need this?" Bolin waved the poorly-wrapped lump in the air. Mako's hand shot out and Bolin yanked the cookie back, beginning to unwrap it as quickly as he could. Mako lunged across the table and there was a scrabbling mess as fingers sought a hold. Finally, Mako's arm emerged victorious. He unwrapped the cookie and took a large bite, though he quickly grimaced around the mouthful.

Korra snickered. "Is the cafeteria baking not up to standard?"

He shrugged and took another mouthful. "It's been better."

"If Bumi saw you eating that we'd have to drag your corpse away from the track when he was finished with you."

Mako scowled. "Season is over anyways. He can't hound me with meal plans until track."

Asami reached over and smoothed some of his hair down and Korra looked at her sandwich. "Don't go crazy reintroducing yourself to junk food," she said. "We don't want you getting sick."

"You know," Bolin said, gesturing with one of his breadsticks at Asami. "Sugar high Mako is actually pretty fun."

Korra snorted and Mako sent her an irritated look. Korra had to bite her tongue before she said something rude and entirely called for. They'd been at each other's throats for the past week and Korra wasn't entirely sure why. Well, it probably had to do with the extravagant three month anniversary celebration he and Asami had held last Saturday, but it was easier to blame it on trivial things.

"Hey," Bolin cut in. "Are you guys still up for movie night this weekend?"

Korra forced a smile. Trust Bolin to break the strained atmosphere. "Sure. What's the line up?"

"The illustrious 1986 Chopping Mall," Bolin said, the greasy breadstick now splattering them in his enthusiasm.

"And the Breakfast Club," Asami said while pressing Bolin's arm to a safe halt. "We need to start branching out."

"Any chance we'll be watching something from this decade any time soon," Mako asked.

"Nope," Korra quipped.

Yet another passive aggressive glare was sent her way but this time it was happily returned.

Bolin banged his fist on the table with a dull thud. "I just remembered! Do you guys remember at the meet when that ambulance pulled up?" Korra felt something sinking in her stomach as she picked at one of the cucumbers peeking out of her sandwich. "One of the guys heard from another one of the guys who heard form one of the meet coordinators that it was Tahno!"

Silence fell and Korra just stared at the table that seemed to be reflecting dull black eyes back up at her. "Tahno," Asami was the first to say in shock. "Tahno as in Tahno."

"The very one! They said his shoe got caught on one of the rocks and he twisted his knee when he fell. He didn't get back up so someone called an ambulance."

Mako snorted. "It must have been pretty bad if he couldn't haul himself over that line."

"Mako, bitter doesn't suit you," Asami muttered.

He shrugged but his eyes lowered to the table. "I was one place up higher than usual. I finished right with that one badgermole senior."There was a pause and he continued, "But it can't have been that bad. I mean, he'll be back for track season."

The words were said with a slight hint of resignation and everyone nodded in agreement. Korra felt knowledge prickling under her skin but she just couldn't bring herself to voice it. If she told them where Tahno was now, what he looked like with his back bent and hair dull, it would be violating something. She just couldn't find that old malice that used to surface so readily whenever his name was mentioned.

"You ok, Korra?" She looked up and there was a vindictive kind of pleasure in the attention. You aren't so quick to glare when I look beaten. But there was genuine concern in Mako's voice so she smiled at him.

"I'm fine, Mako."

The bell blared and the cafeteria exploded with the crinkling of empty wrappers and the shouldering of backpacks. Asami leaned to press a quick kiss to Mako's cheek before sliding around to Korra's side of the table.

"C'mon, Korra. I'll walk you to class."

She hurried Korra into the current of people, leaving Mako and Bolin staring after them in bemusement. Korra stifled a sigh of relief. For some reason, lunches had seemed to grow longer and longer as of late. Maybe it was her muscles storing pent up energy from the mandatory post-season break or maybe it was the knowledge that soon she'd have to dive into physical therapy with Tahno. Tahno. As in the Tahno.

"Hey, Korra." She looked up into Asami's concerned green eyes. "Are you feeling alright?"

Korra shrugged it off. She was never one to brood and this was just becoming ridiculous. "Yeah, everything is fine. It's just post season blues."

"Do you want to sneak a run tonight? If we do it in my neighborhood Tenzin will never know."

Korra smiled faintly at the idea of physical therapist Tenzin finding out she had been skiving off her rest period. There would be hell to pay. "No, but can I spend the night? I've got Beifong's packet due tomorrow and I'd like to be in close proximity to someone who actually understands calculus."

Asami squeezed her shoulder. "Only if you help me BS the chem lab."

Korra laughed as she saw her classroom coming up through the stream of students. "Deal."

"Do you remember the sequences?"

"Yes, Tenzin."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes, Tenzin." He scowled and she patted his arm. "Relax. You should be less worried about the physical therapy part and more worried about us biting each other's heads off."

"You're not inspiring much confidence in me."

"Stop worrying."

"I'll stop worrying when you stop giving me reason to worry."

This time she made no rebuttal, opting to let herself zone out. This was probably the last bit of quiet she'd have for a good while.

The lobby door opened with a soft swip and she looked up, pasting an overly-bright grin that quickly wilted on her face.

"Hey, Tahno."


End file.
